


The Past In Our Present

by bzarcher



Series: Triptych [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Commissioned fic, Consequences, F/F, Kid Fic, Lemon Tea, Lemon Tea Maker, Multi, Other, Past Violence, Post-Canon, Twins, Widowtracer, a little bit of action, a little bit of feels, background pharmercy - Freeform, commission, gingerspider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Amélie Oxton has things she never thought possible again. Love. A family. Children. Friends.But life goes on even when you're a member of Overwatch, and the name 'Widowmaker' has not been forgotten.





	The Past In Our Present

**Overwatch** **_Delphinae_ ** **Transport** **  
** **30,000 feet over the Banda Sea**

**22:30 hours**

Lena took a look around the little briefing table in the center of the cargo bay. These days, Overwatch didn’t go in for a lot of ‘all star’ teams. The more the organization had slowly grown, the more people had come in, either directly recruited by the post-Recall members or support personnel seconded from partner countries. A squad like this, made up of all original team members, was practically unheard of these days.

It gave her a pleasantly nostalgic feeling as the five of them stood around the table. Angela, Fareeha, and Zarya were all in their full gear, and except for the slight age lines on Fareeha’s face and the touch of grey in Angela’s hair it could have been fifteen years ago, with the rather still illegal Overwatch getting ready to perform a nighttime raid.

_Well,_ Lena thought with a smile as she looked over to where Amélie was thoughtfully examining a map of their target, _almost just like old times._

The sound of a throat being cleared brought Lena’s attention back to the planning table, and she straightened up to pay better attention to the briefing.

“This,” Fareeha said as she tapped the table and brought up a projection of a massive old style aircraft carrier that appeared to have a small network of smaller ships and floating rafts moored to it with heavy chains, ropes, and wide nets, “is the _Royal Treasure_. Or, more to the point, _this_ is the heart of the Blackwood arms smuggling network – and Victor Blackwood’s personal yacht.”

Lena snorted. “Someone’s got a high opinion of himself.”

Aleksandra leaned forward, lightly tapping her finger over the carrier’s deck. “This looks familiar. Russian?”

“Close,” Fareeha replied as she pulled up another screen. “It used to be the _PLN Liaoning_. A Russian _Riga_ class carrier they sold off to the Chinese navy, who refitted it with updated systems, nuclear power, and improved automation. They kept it in service until 2030, did _another_ refit using early Omnica tech and a new fusion plant, and ended up mothballing it in 2060 after the Crisis proved that aircraft carriers aren’t very useful against swarms of Detonators, flights of _Harpy_ drones, or Titans.”

“I can just about see that,” Lena observed, “but how did _Blackwood_ get his hands on it? I mean, I heard he thought of himself as a pirate, but it’s not like someone won’t notice an aircraft carrier going away.”

Fareeha shrugged. “Money talks – and he has a _lot_ of it.”

That was certainly true enough. “King” Victor Blackwood had been the heir to some crime family or another back in the twenty-teens, and was diagnosed with what was, at the time, incurable cancer. Apparently he’d decided to have himself frozen and his money placed in cold storage with him while he left his crime syndicate to run itself. He’d been thawed out just before the end of the Crisis, his body whole and his bank account flush with nearly fifty years of ill-gotten gains.

It hadn’t taken much for Blackwood to look at the shattered world and find some new cracks to crawl into, and before long he had a smuggling and arms dealing network that seemed to have contacts in every corner of the globe.

It was high time someone did something about that.

Lena could hear Fareeha discussing a few more details of the carrier, but was distracted again when her pocket began to buzz.

She blinked, reaching into the map pocket on the inside of her jacket to pull out the phone, then felt a chill at the name on the caller ID: **_EMILY_ **

“Sorry,” she apologized to Fareeha as she backed away, “one sec. Got to take this.”

Fareeha raised an eyebrow but gestured for her to go on, and Lena teleported herself down to the tail end of the cabin before she hit the accept button. “Hey, you. What’s going on?”

“Sorry to bother you at work,” Emily answered with voice full of concern, “but there’s…been a situation you needed to know about. _Both_ of you, really.”   
  
Lena frowned as she did the time differences in her head. It was middle of the afternoon in London, if she had her maths right. “Amé’s working on the briefing. Should I get her or just fill her in?”

“I think filling her in is fine.” Emily sighed. “The school called. There’s been a problem.”  
  
Lena groaned. “Oh no. What did Viv do _now?_ ”

“That’s just the thing,” Emily corrected. “It _wasn’t_ Vivyan. _Benji_ punched one of his classmates.”

Lena blinked. “Benji?! _Our_ Benji? The same Benjamin who refused to play rugby because he didn’t want to tackle anyone?”

She could almost see Emily pinching her nose as she sighed into the phone. “I know. That’s why I was so shocked. I’ve no idea what happened but obviously _something_ is really wrong.”

“Yeah…” Lena shook her head. “Well. You head to the school, I guess, and as soon as we’re done and we can hop on a flight we’ll get back to London, I promise.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Emily agreed. “I’ll try to leave you a message once I know more, too.”

“OK,” Lena tried to put a little extra confidence into her voice. “We’ll try to keep in touch and we’ll let you know when we’re on the way home.”  
  
“Right…” Emily hesitated, then let her voice drop just a little. “Be safe – _both_ of you. _Come home_ , Lena Oxton, and you damned well bring our wife with you.”

Lena smiled and couldn’t help but put her hand as close to her heart as she could manage over the accelerator. “We’ll be home before you know it, Mrs. Oxton.” She blew a kiss into the phone, and Emily returned it before hanging up, then Lena jogged back up to rejoin the briefing.

Fareeha raised an eyebrow as she approached. “Is everything OK, Lena?”

Lena shrugged, making quick eye contact with Amélie. “Minor emergency at home, but nothing we can do about it right now. It’ll keep until we’re done with the job.”

Fareeha gave her a searching look, then looked over to Amélie. “Fine. Just keep your head in the game, please. We need you – _both of you_ – at one hundred percent.”

Lena drew herself to attention, and saw Amélie straighten as well out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t worry, Strike-Commander. We won’t let you down.”

Fareeha gave them a grave nod, then broke up the formality with a slightly crooked smile. “I think we both know that I’m going to worry about _everyone_ …but I do trust you both.” She tapped at the table, and raised another diagram, this one focusing on the carrier’s bridge tower.

“After our conversation a few months ago about Blackwood and Deadlock stepping up their arms dealing ‘partnership’, I spoke to Jesse about starting to work on getting someone inside so we could get a solid location on Blackwood _and_ his clients. He found an opening for us to insert a few undercover operatives, and they’d managed to get into Blackwood’s operations.”

“So,” Zarya asked slowly, “what went wrong?”

Fareeha grimaced. “We don’t know the exact details, but at some point after they transferred on board the _Treasure_ they got made. One of them managed to set off his distress beacon and we’ve been able to track them, but Blackwood isn’t known for being kind to spies.”

Amélie hummed. “This is a rescue operation, then?”

“Extraction in force, I would say.” Fareeha smiled. “Blackwood appears to be keeping them near the ship’s bridge, so we’ll take advantage of it. First priority is to pull our agents out, but I want to see if we can get our hands on Blackwood in the process, or – failing that – data on his customers and operations.”

Despite her lingering worries about back home, Lena couldn’t help but grin wolfishly. “I like it. So, who are the agents we’re busting out…?”

* * *

Roadhog huffed as deep a sigh as he could manage. Fucking captured. Again.

If that hadn’t been one of the backup plans for this job, he would be even more pissed off.

His hook had been taken during their capture along with his scrapper and his Hogdrogen, but the biggest issue had been that they’d ripped off the mask he’d had on. The light coming in through the bridge windows was far too bright for someone who was accustomed to seeing the world through polarized lenses, and even though the salty sea air smelled much better without passing through his mask’s filters, it made his scarred lungs and damaged throat ache with every breath. It was a painful reminder that part of him would always be Mako, and that Mako was _broken_ in ways that not even Ziegler could fix.

All of which would have been frustrating, but slightly more tolerable if his partner could _please._ Just. Shut. Up.

“But I mean how _did_ you catch us?” Jamison’s nattering hadn’t improved with familiarity, really. If anything it was _worse_ , thanks to the damn cowboy giving him tips on how to talk about nothing at all while you listened for what mattered. “I mean, our disguises were _genius_. Absolutely inspired!”

Blackwood scoffed, a rich burr of an accent adding an extra cutting tone to his words. “Yes, quite brilliant – aside from the fact you’ve used them before.” The ‘Pirate King’ was dressed for the part, wearing a broad black tricorn cap covered in brass rivets, wavy dark hair spilling down his shoulders, a handsome face with what seemed to be a case of permanent five o’clock shadow, and an outfit almost as ridiculous as the fake shark suit Roadhog had been wearing for his disguise, with a black oilcloth cloak draped over a red velvet coat, white ruffled silk shirt, and dyed leather breeches. Blackwood even had a peg leg, though his seemed to be a much nicer quality prosthetic than the cobbled together affair Fawkes kept tinkering with.

The remark about their costumes got Roadhog’s attention, though. They _had_ worn those stupid outfits once before, but it had been a long, long time ago. Blackwood couldn’t have possibly been around for it, but there was a very short list of people who were.

Jamison giggled, the nervous tittering that often signaled a deep desire to blow things up. “Really? Don’t seem to recall, eh, Roadie? I mean, I suppose it was _sort_ of like that one night in Bangkok, but honestly I thought you pulled off that dress like a pro –”

Blackwood cut Fawkes off with a nasty backhand, the sharp _crack_ of impact leaving a tense silence behind that was broken by the hissing undertones of a transmission with an old style microphone.

“Did you _really_ think I’d forget the time you tried to blow up my whole fucking city, you filthy rodent?”

Oh, _shit_.

Roadhog’s eyes squinted against the painful light as he turned his head to focus on the transmitter that had come up to display a head and shoulders image of The Queen herself, a few more worry lines on her face but otherwise unchanged from the day they’d both been kicked out of Junkertown. Again.

“Oi, Queenie!” Jamison attempted to straighten himself up, but the chain wrapped around his ankle and his peg leg made him even more awkward than usual. “Didn’t expect to see you! Don’t suppose you changed your mind about lettin’ us back in, didja?”

The Queen snorted dismissively. “Like I’d even _want_ you. You went _suit_ and you were spyin’ on my best supplier. I’d kick your asses out all over again for that!”

Jamison stiffened as if she’d hit him with a cattle prod. “Suit?! SUIT!?! _YOU TAKE THAT BACK!”_

“You work for Overwatch,” Blackwood deadpanned. “Exactly what _would_ you consider yourself?”

“Hired help,” Jamison said, calming down as if a switch had been thrown, “obviously! God knows they need us, eh Roadie?”

Roadhog gave a little smile and a soft grunt of a laugh despite the pain. “Heh.” For one thing, they’d just confirmed the Queen was picking up the tab for a lot of Blackwood’s smuggled guns and tech, which would be good to pass back to McCree and Amari. That meant Blackwood had contacts in the ports somewhere in Oz or back home. Roadhog would bet money it was some suit in Kwinana who was happy to look the other way while containers went on trucks that got ‘ambushed’ by Junkertown raids later.  

Blackwood stomped over to where Jamison sat and leaned over him, lifting his chin with one hand so he could look him in the eye. “Exactly how _stupid_ do you and your little friends think I am, boyo?” His free hand went to hs belt, drawing the old style cutlass at his hip from its sheath. “I ought to put a hole in your gut and keel-haul you _under the aircraft carrier_ , you spying shit!”

Jamison’s face grew still, his normal grin fading until his mouth turned to a hard line, and Roadhog subtly drew himself up, testing the strength of the chains binding his hands. The forged links were strong…but not that strong.  

Apparently the Queen had video pickups, too, and her voice had a tone of warning once she caught that expression. “Watch it, Blackwood…I’d hate to see that pretty face of yours get a Rat bite.”

Jamison was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice slow and measured compared to his earlier manic babbling. “I dunno, mate. You were stupid enough to bring me an’ Roadie up here, after all.”

Blackwood smirked. “Your fat friend is blind and can barely breathe, and you’re missing all your precious little bombs. I’ll let him listen to your brains hitting the floor, and maybe we’ll dump him off the side if we’re feeling _generous_.”

Jamison considered that with a little ‘huh’, and then tilted his head up slightly. “See, I think there’s two things you’re not takin’ into account, ya peg legged bastard.”

Roadhog could see the screen just well enough to catch the Queen’s face turning white just before she cut the comm. Blackwood either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he stomped back over to shove his sword in Jamison’s face again. “Enlighten me, then.”

Jamison looked at the sword, then up at Blackwood, then back down at the sword before he raised his chin defiantly. “Well, first thing – _you dumb cunt_ – is what you said yourself: We’re part of Overwatch. You don’t think they’d just leave us here to rot, would ya?”

Blackwood didn’t have a chance to answer before there was a sound like the world’s largest beer can getting crunched, the whole bridge feeling like it had jumped to the left from the force of the blow.

Alarms began to ring and emergency lights came on, tinting the place in shades of red as reports began to come in over the PA.

_“We’ve been hit portside!”_

_“We’re taking on water at the foc’sle orlop!”_

_“Bow thrusters are out!”_

_“Turbine 2 is down!”_

_“Damage control teams – seal those compartments!”_

_“Get the rigging cut free from the rafts before we drag them over!”_

_“Radar and sonar contacts! They must have been stealthed!”_

Jamison’s mouth turned up in a full blown Junkrat grin, and his laugh echoed off the retrofitted bridge walls like something that came straight from hell. “Oh, _mate_ , you have no idea how you deep you’ve stepped in it!”

Blackwood stumbled back as the ship lurched from another impact, his fist pounding a bright red master alarm switch. “You might as well tell me your second thing before I run you through – and then go kill all of your friends!”

Jamison’s giggle started deep in his chest and exploded out of his mouth for a good five seconds before he used the lurching of the ship to help himself hobble up to his feet. He put his good hand over his rust streaked prosthetic arm, twisting it until there was a sharp _click_ , and the slightly oversized artificial hand popped off from his wrist. “I ain’t actually out of bombs.”

Blackwood rolled out of the way with a curse as Jamison tossed the ‘hand grenade’, and Roadhog closed his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath and letting it out with his mouth hanging open as the grenade exploded with a deep boom, the yawn helping to protect his ears from the pressure wave of the blast.

When Roadhog opened his eyes, he caught the sight of Blackwood disappearing through the doorway to the corridor, the hatch slamming closed before the locking wheel dogged it down. Two of Blackwood’s grunts who had been caught by the blast were basically hamburger, with the one that had been behind him either knocked out or smart enough to play dead. Most of the windows facing the bow of the ship had been blown out, and the rest had been replaced by a jagged hole, the hazy smoke from the blast hanging in the air.

Tensing his muscles, Roadhog pulled as hard as he could against the handcuff chain, until the metal bent, the weak link snapping as his hands flew apart.

Wheezing with pain and the strain of his effort, he had finally managed to steady himself when there came a flash of blue light.

“Special delivery, lads!” Tracer looked around the shattered bridge, shaking her head at the scene as she pulled a rucksack from her back. “Can’t take you _anywhere_ , can we?”

Roadhog gave a grunt, conceding the point, while Fawkes just giggled with glee.

Tracer rolled her eyes and unzipped the sack, first producing a replacement hand that she tossed over to Jamison. “Right – let’s get you two _re-armed_.” She giggled at her own joke as she pulled out a black gas mask, tossing it so Roadhog could snatch it out of the air. “Then once you’re both good to go we’ll see where Blackwood ran off to.”

Relief washed over him like cool rain as he set one of his spare masks back into place. The world looked _normal_ again, the light muted by the lenses, and the filtered air turned the painful burning in his lungs down to a dull ache. A few puffs off the Hogdrogen tank Tracer handed him helped to ease the rest, and once he’d filled his hands with his backup gun and his regular hook, Roadhog was ready for some _real_ mayhem.

* * *

Fareeha couldn’t help but smile as she broke through the waves, the Raptora Mk. XII(s) switching from undersea propulsion to thrusters as smoothly as it had slipped beneath the water in the first place.

“My compliments to Brigitte and the armory team – those torpedo rounds worked perfectly.” The sealed faceplate beneath the suit’s distinctive golden visor slid clear, and Fareeha took a deep breath of the fresh air. Recycled air was much preferable to drowning while she was underwater, but Fareeha craved the feeling of the wind against her skin when she was in the skies.

_Well, as long as there’s enough air to breathe, at least._

Her eyes flicked through the team status icons on her HUD, the Raptora’s IFF highlighting locations when her pupils crossed each one.

Tracer was blinking away from the ship’s bridge, the green highlighting dot appearing on the deck, then closer to the stern a heartbeat later.

Widowmaker had found a spot atop the antenna masts where she could position herself to lock down the aircraft carrier’s deck, and the _lack_ of movement in her case was a clear signal that she was fine.

Zarya had gone for her typical frontal assault, and Fareeha didn’t need the HUD to see the blazing flare of her particle barriers as she bulldozed through the mass of pirates and general riffraff that Blackwood had gathered around him, while she could see the golden flare of Angela’s wings as she hovered close enough to lend assistance to their team where needed.

A pair of beeps signaled two more comm devices coming online, and a moment later icons appeared for both Junkrat and Roadhog.

“Welcome back. Status on Blackwood?”

Roadhog’s deep voice rumbled over the circuit, with the sound of explosions in the background. “Running.”

Junkrat’s comm line brought those explosives into the foreground, along with the sound of some back and forth weapons fire. “Think he’s tryin’ to get to the hangar deck!”

Angela’s ( _No_ , she corrected herself for the thousandth time, _Mercy’s_ ) voice cut in. “There’s too much in the way of the catapults right now to launch a conventional aircraft.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s a chopper or a VTOL of some kind,” Fareeha replied thoughtfully, then made a decision. “Regardless, I don’t want him getting off the ship if we can avoid it. Tracer, see if you can cut him off while I head for the stern – I’ll see if I can enter the hangar deck through the fantail.”

There was a hiss of pain over the channel. “Watch the bastard’s knives,” Junkrat advised. “Turns out he’s got a pretty good throwin’ arm!”

Fareeha didn’t have Mercy’s complete medical monitoring ability, but her command tools showed basic vitals. Junkrat appeared to have taken a hit, but nothing too serious. “Duly noted. Keep after him. Pharah out.”

* * *

Lena liked a good obstacle course, but she had her limits.

The aircraft carrier’s deck plans had been complex enough _before_ Blackwood and god knows who else had been using it for the last few years, but now it was practically a rabbit warren. Cabins and bays cut open or blocked off, seemingly at random. Watertight doors welded in place in some areas, removed in others. Missing ladders and stairwells that had been torn out by the decommissioning crew twenty years ago and never replaced.

She’d had to rewind herself back in time twice to avoid broken ankles (or worse) from the sorry state of the ship, not to mention the pirates who were still occasionally shooting at her.

Lena finally found herself in what she thought was originally one of the machine shops / maintenance bays for the ship’s original complement of aircraft, the dark and cavernous space littered with old parts and bits of metal, most of the usable tools and workbenches having been stripped out long ago.

The accelerator left ghostly pools of light on the ground around her as she ran towards the ship’s stern, and she was so caught up in making sure she didn’t trip on something that she didn’t notice the throwing knife that came out of the dark until it had embedded itself into the meat of her thigh.

“Hey! That’s cheatin’!”   
  
Pulling herself backwards and juking out of the way of the next throw wasn’t too difficult, but it still slowed her down.

“It’s not really cheating,” Blackwood called out of the shadows, “when you have a big glowing target strapped to your chest!”

“Yeah, well,” Lena muttered to herself, “two can play at that game.” She slid behind a packing crate and tapped her comm. “Tracer to Widow – you busy, luv?”

“I’m holding off an entire ship of pirates with suppressing fire,” Amélie noted dryly. “Why would this keep me busy?”

“Silly me,” Lena replied with a fond smile. “I’m only asking because I could use a _bit_ of help here. Blackwood’s killed the lights in this section of the ship.”

“Ahh. Say no more, _mon amour.”_ Amélie’s voice dipped into a silky purr of anticipation as she activated her recon visor, and began broadcasting target locations to their team. _“No one can hide from my sight.”_

_Three years of shooting at each other, a couple of being not-exactly-enemies and almost ten years married, and that is STILL ridiculously sexy._ Lena grinned to herself as she drew her pistols again, watching as a silhouette that had to have been Blackwood began to approach where she was waiting. _You’re a lucky girl, Lena._

She sprang up from cover, firing a burst from her pistols that caught Blackwood as he was preparing to throw, sending a shower of sparks through the air as the knife blade shattered.

Clutching his hand and cursing as he staggered backwards, Blackwood pulled something from his coat and tossed it before he turned to run.

“You don’t get away that easy,” Lena cried, but the grenade Blackwood had thrown sent her flying back, even with trying to teleport away from the blast, and when she managed to get to her feet there was a jagged hole that went through a good bit of the decking, cutting off her route to the hatchway.

“Tracer to Pharah – he tossed a grenade at me and blew a hole in the deck – I have to find another way round!”

“Roger. I’m nearly to the fantail – do what you can.”

Between Junkrat’s bombs, Pharah’s torpedoes, and the unrelenting rise of sea water through the ship’s damaged compartments, the carrier had begun to take on a pronounced list as Lena worked her way out to one of the main corridors, trying to get back on the chase as the pirate retreated, the feed from the recon visor winking out.

Her stomach sank as she reached another hatchway, this one welded shut, the only way out a rope ladder back to the flight deck. “I’ve lost him – the only way back is to get up on the flight deck again.”

Fareeha’s voice was filled with resigned frustration. “I understand. Head up and see if you can help Zarya and Widow lock down the deck.”

Lena made her way back to the deck, the night sky now lit with the fires burning in different areas of the ship, and the flashes of particle beam and pulse fire.

She had a feeling they’d be seeing Blackwood again, but it wouldn’t be in handcuffs.

* * *

The flight back to the joint MEKA / Overwatch facility in Seoul was a very subdued affair.

Everyone was coming back home safe, with only a few minor injuries that Angela had needed to treat. The worst off was Roadhog, who had suffered damage to his already weakened lungs by being unmasked for so long, but the use of his Hogdrogen and a biotic injection had helped to ease his breathing.

The big junker had settled into one of the extra wide seats in the transport that were normally used by powered armored troops, strapped in, and passed out, while Jamison had stretched out on the cabin floor, pillowing his head on his old bodyguard’s stomach.

Like many doctors, Angela had the ability to sleep almost anywhere, and her normal method for working off her post-combat stress was to wrap herself in blankets and strap herself in before nodding off, her staff secured to the wall at her side in case of an emergency.

Fareeha was out of the heavier sections of her armor, reviewing some of the after action information while Aleksandra leaned against the planning table while Lena and Amélie sat nearby, Lena curled against her wife’s chest but still following the informal debriefing.

“Sensor traces show a small object leaving the carrier a few minutes after we lost contact with Blackwood. Best guess is he had a mini-sub stashed for a quick getaway, and he used the window of time he created when he blew the deck out from under Lena’s feet to reach it and make his escape.”  

Aleksandra gave a grunt, shaking her head. “So – all this for nothing?”

Fareeha leaned back, stretching until her shoulders popped. “I wouldn’t say nothing. Aside from recovering two agents in danger, we recovered a good bit of information on Blackwood’s client list, and the _Royal Treasure_ will be towed to a secured drydock so a joint investigation team can rip the ship apart bolt by bolt. We’ll see what we can learn, and even if Blackwood escaped his operations are crippled.”

“It wasn’t a complete success,” Fareeha admitted, “but I think we came out ahead today.”

Aleksandra gave a little shrug. “Is true. Fine for now. But when Blackwood hijacks a convoy from Volskaya? Or holds another ship for ransom? Will be problem then.”

“We know he has ties to Junkertown now. We’ll see if he surfaces there.” Fareeha smiled darkly. “If he shows up…well. We’ve had unfinished business with the Queen for a long time, now.” She gave a yawn, her eyes slipping over to where Angela was still dozing. “We’ll go over everything in detail back at HQ. I want Jesse to have a look at the computer cores we pulled out, too. Get some rest – we’ll refuel at Seoul.”

Lena stirred, sitting up fully. “Any issues if Amé and I take a suborbital from Seoul back to London?”

Fareeha shook her head. “You’re both due for some downtime, anyway. Just check in with me in a few days.”

Lena nodded, then gestured with her head towards the back of the transport for Amélie to follow. She unfolded herself from the seat and let Lena lead her into the back, then settled into a jumpseat near the rear cargo hatch.

“So – what has happened?”

Lena gave a sigh, rubbing the back of her head. “Emily didn’t give me details, yet, but Benji got into some trouble at school. Apparently he punched one of his classmates.”

Amélie’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “That is rather unlike him. Usually he is pulling Vivyan _out_ of fights.”

“Yeah. Not sure what caused it yet, but it obviously had Em concerned.” Lena sighed, rubbing the back of her head. “The twins will be in bed before we get home, but I’m going to bet he’s not going to school tomorrow. How’d you want to handle it?”

“We will ask him to explain. I suspect he will have done more to punish himself than we could, but I want to know why this happened.” Amélie considered the matter further, then settled back against the back of her seat. “Did he win?”

Lena snorted. “Em didn’t say – and you know we _shouldn’t_ ask him that, either.”

Amélie shrugged with a lazy smile. “I am just curious. Besides – we all know that he got that impulsiveness from _you_.”

Lena snorted as she sat down onto the floor, leaning back to put her head into her wife’s lap and let Amélie stroke her scalp. “Oh, don’t you start with that.”

Amélie just hummed with amusement, continuing her ministrations as they flew through the night.

* * *

It was just passing ten in the evening when Emily heard the front door of their house open, and she put the book she’d been reading down on the coffee table.

Even after years of being involved with two of the best fighters in the world, she felt a bit nervous as she walked to the front hall, needing to _see_ that her loves had come home unscathed before she could finally let herself relax.

She’d gotten the text from Lena that they were safe and on their way home from Seoul not long after she’d put the twins to bed, but Emily still felt a wave of relief as she saw them coming inside, a smile spreading across her face.

“Welcome home.”

They both dropped their bags and crossed the hall to her, Amélie making sure the door was latched and locked before joining the three way embrace. Emily let herself relax into their touch, breathing out a long sigh as she let her anxieties go.

Lena was the first to speak when they finally separated, her voice just above a murmur. “Kids get to bed OK?”

Emily nodded. “Benji barely said a dozen words all night. Even Viv couldn’t get him out of his shell – and she tried.”

Amélie hummed softly. “Do we know _why_ this happened?”

“No.” Emily’s frown deepened. “It was just after they got back from a field trip, but the teachers couldn’t say what the cause was. I thought perhaps one of you could sit him down after breakfast – he’s been suspended for the rest of the week.”

“Good plan,” Lena agreed, a little gleam in her eyes. “Now…shall we go upstairs, Mrs. Oxton?”

Emily gave each of them a kiss, then made her way to the stairwell. “Excellent idea, Mrs. Oxton.”

She knew her wives bodies by heart, now. Every plane and line, every scar and mark. The signs of Angela’s healing were subtle, but Emily could feel them beneath her fingertips, and she made sure to kiss and stroke each one, committing them all to memory.

Thanks to the time differences and rest on the flight, Lena and Amélie weren’t terribly sleepy, and they knew the importance of letting Emily reassure and satisfy herself before taking her into their arms, gently proving to her that they were both very much alive and unharmed.

It would be some time before they finally settled into sleep, their bodies intertwined, but Emily didn’t mind at all.

After all, this was the best part of them coming home.

* * *

The next morning, they were in the kitchen, Lena making a pot of oatmeal while Amélie handled their latest crisis.

“ _Maman_ , it’s not _fair!_ ” Vivyan crossed her arms in a pout, tossing her head with a defiant glare that Amélie found all too familiar. “ _Benji_ got in trouble, but _I_ still have to go to school?”

Amélie didn’t let her impassive mask slip, but she caught Benji slouching in his seat, burying his head in his arms while Emily raised an eyebrow. “Your brother enjoys school, _Vivyounette._ He _is_ being punished, and I promise he will not be having fun today.”

Vivyan looked to where Lena was cooking. “But you and mummy just got _home_. Can’t we skip today and just stay with you?” Her voice softened, more sincere than her earlier complaint. “I missed you…”

Amélie opened her arms, and let Vivyan come into her lap, giving her a hug. “When you come home from school, we will be all yours. Behave yourself, and we will go out for dinner.” She looked up, giving a little smile to the others. “ _Perhaps_ even ice cream.”

“Promise?”

“On my life, _ma puce._ ”

Vivyan reluctantly climbed down, then bobbed her head in a sharp nod that was like looking in the mirror. “Alright, _maman._ I’ll go to school…”

Emily cleared her throat. “And behave?”  
  
_“And_ behave,” Vivyan promised with a little sigh. “Is breakfast ready, mummy?”

“Nearly done,” Lena smiled as she pulled out some bowls. “Raisins and golden syrup in your oatmeal?”  
  
“Yes please!”

Lena gave Benji a look. “How about you, Benji? Brown sugar?”

Benji shook his head, not even looking up. “Not hungry.”

“You sure?” Lena put a bowl in front of Vivyan. “Breakfast is important.”

Amélie nodded. “You should eat, Benji.”  
  
Emily smiled. She liked being able to let Lena and Amélie have moments like this, where they could handle the parenting and feel involved.

“…I guess I can take a little.” Benjamin sat up, his gaze still fixed on the tabletop. “Plain is ok, though.”

“Plain it is, then.” Lena brought half as much as what she offered Vivyan for Benjamin, then fixed up a bowl for herself.

Amélie gave him a concerned look. “If you feel like eating more once you finish, you may. We’ll sit down when your sister leaves – just the two of us.”

Benjamin pushed his spoon around in the oatmeal, but finally took a few bites. “ _Oui, maman._ ”

Emily reached out and gently rubbed his tousled black hair. “I’m going to need to get ready for work myself. Mummy and I will take your sister to school so the two of you can have some privacy, OK?”

Benji nodded, relief in his eyes. “Thanks, mum.”

* * *

Amélie gave Vivyan a hug to go with her sack lunch, kissed Lena and Emily before they left, then put a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Would it be easier if we talk in the family room?”

Benji nodded, and she let him lead the way, depositing their dishes from breakfast in the sink. He took a seat on the couch, his feet not quite touching the floor, and Amélie brought over an armchair.

“Your mother said you had been on a field trip,” Amélie said gently, hoping to ease him into talking. “Where did you go?”

Benji looked down at his shoes. “King’s Row – we got to walk around the entrance to the Underground and then Mr. D’Oyly lead us over to the Mondatta memorial. People were taking pictures at the base of the statue. I told them you and mum take us every year but they said it was important.”

“I see.” She tried to keep her voice even, noticing the way Benji had taken a deep interest in the carpet. “Obviously something happened at school after your class came back from the trip. Did it begin at the memorial?”

Benji stiffened, the color draining from his face as he looked at her with wide, shocked eyes. “How did you know?”

“Hitting someone is very unlike you,” she explained, “and I know you must have had a reason. But I doubt the boy you punched was harassing _you_.” Amélie gave him a little smile. “If he had,  your sister would be sitting here in your place, and you would have given us far less trouble at breakfast.”

Benji smiled back, just a little, then looked away guiltily. “He wasn’t making fun of me, _maman_.”

Amélie sat back and waited. She’d learned that much like when she was a sniper, being quiet and letting the other person do the work was remarkably effective parenting.

“There’s a girl in my class,” Benji finally began. “Her name’s Ada.”

“That is a very pretty name.” Amélie thought she recalled seeing the girl during orientation, but Benji hadn’t mentioned her before. “Is she nice?”

“She’s very quiet,” Benji answered. “She doesn’t talk a lot in class, but she was nice when we had to work on some maths together.”

“I see.” Amélie put her hands in her lap. “Was someone bothering her at the memorial?”

Benji shook his head. “No, but…”

She arched an eyebrow. “But?”

“Her parents…” Benji swung his feet back and forth, fidgeting as he tried to think about what to say. “She’s adopted. Her mum is human and her dad is an omnic. Nobody knew until she got sick last month and her dad picked her up from school. People were saying her family must be rich if they kept servants…she got upset and yelled at them to leave her dad alone.”

“Ah…” Even with Mondatta’s martyrdom and the change in attitudes that had come from seeing omnics all over the world helping to defend humans during the Second Crisis, fifty years of prejudice would take time to heal. Lena had been part of a vocal celebrity campaign to champion equality, but some would never change. “The ones who bullied her – that simply made it worse, didn’t it?”

Benji’s expression was a clear answer. “When we were at the memorial she got excited because she could see her mum and dad in one of the pictures of the crowds.” Benji crossed his arms against his chest. “I saw mummy in the same picture. She had her hero stuff.”

Amélie nodded, her eyes going distant as she recalled that night. “She was there.” _So was I._ “And yes, she did have her…‘hero stuff’.”

“Anyway…Aiken…he always starts things. After we got back to the school and they let us out to play, Ada was trying to draw a picture of Mondatta with the chalk. He kept messing it up and she got up and pushed him. He pushed her back and…and he said…” Tears had started to prick at Benji’s eyes. “He said they’d make the Widowmaker shoot her dad, just like she shot Mondatta.”

Amélie felt an ache in her chest at the sound of her codename falling from Benji’s lips. He had no idea the Widowmaker he spoke of with such fear was sitting across from him.

She had long ago accepted what she had done while under Talon’s control. For the most part Amélie did not feel regret for the acts themselves, but she did regret that her past would inevitably cause her children pain.

She had not realized that day would come so soon, though.

_I would never lie to you, but I never wished for you to learn of such things._

It took a bit of effort to keep her voice even, but she managed to keep the dread she felt out of her voice. “Is that when you hit him?”

Benji shook his head, tears starting to trickle down his cheek. “I got in the middle and told him to _stop_ , like Viv does.”

“Where _was_ your sister during this,” Amélie wondered. “Did she see this too?” _I cannot imagine Vivyan would have agreed with the ugly little thug._

Benji shrugged. “Footie I think. Other part of the playground.”

“Ah.” Amélie settled back in her chair, satisfied. “He didn’t stop, did he?”

“He said that if I was such an om lover, maybe the Widowmaker should shoot my dad, too.” Benji swallowed hard, the tears flowing freely now. “I told him I didn’t have a dad so he said Widowmaker must have killed him, then. He said that…and…and I…” His voice choked off into a sob, and he mimed throwing a punch.

Amélie hissed softly and went to her son, pulling him into her arms. “ _Oh, mon doux fils_ ,”  she murmured into his ear. “ _Mon petit poulet."_

Amélie considered what to tell him as she gently stroked his head, letting him cry himself out.. Or rather, _how much_ to tell him. They’d agreed when the twins were old enough they would need to discuss her past and be frank about certain things.

“Am I supposed to have a dad… ?” Benji sniffled, his tears starting to slow. “Did…did something happen?”

That was an easy enough thing to answer, at least. “You and your sister are _ours_ ,” she answered softly. “Your mothers and mine. Doctor Ziegler helped us to get your mother pregnant, and we have loved you from the moment you began.”

“That’s not…normal…is it? Is it why I have different colored eyes?”

Amélie let him lean back a bit so Benji could look into her eyes. “Many families who could not have a child on their own have used science to help. It is _different_ , but it is still normal.” She gently stroked his face. “Your eyes are beautiful. When I look at you, I see both of your mothers in them.”

Benji leaned into her touch, taking comfort from it. “Was that on purpose?”

Amélie kissed his forehead and hugged him again. “No. We just asked Angela to make sure that you would be healthy – that is all. Just like any other parents.”

“Is that why Viv’s hair is brown and mine is black?”  
  
“Mm. Did you learn about the types of twins in school, yet?”

Benji wiggled. “Sorta. Mrs. Cale made me and Viv stand up, then had Janey and Lennox stand up. Said we’re both sets of twins even if we don’t always look alike.”

Amélie smiled. “Yes, that is so. Fraternal twins – like you and your sister – they do not look alike, but you grew inside of your mother together, and you were born at the same time.”

“Oh.” Benji went quiet as he absorbed that knowledge, then finally nodded his head. “OK.”

She held him for a little longer, then let him go. “I think you understand that trying to protect Ada was gallant, but that hitting your classmate was wrong?”

Benji nodded. “I do, _maman_.”

“Good.” Amélie ruffled his hair as she stood. “We will be going out tonight, but you are not allowed to watch any cartoons or play with your toys today. Go read, or work on the homework you brought back from school in your room. _Compris?"_

Benji walked to where his backpack was waiting, opening it up to pull out his school books. _“Oui, maman.”_

She resisted the urge to give him another touch or more physical comfort, and settled for watching him climb the stairs from the hallway. He’d explained himself and he had accepted his punishment. Better to let him serve it then make him feel coddled. “I’ll bring you up some lunch later.”

* * *

“I don’t know what to tell him,” Amélie confessed as she sat in _seiza_ on the floor of the training room Zenyatta frequently used as his ‘office’ for their sessions. “I don’t know what to tell _either_ of them. I thought I would have more time.”

“You cannot control how the world will reveal itself to others,” Zenyatta said gently. “But you can control how _you_ face that revelation.”

“True,” Amélie admitted, “but they are _nine_. What will they be, after they learn their mother was a monster? A murderer?”

“Eventually…they will be ten.” Zenyatta tilted his head slightly, a touch of amusement beneath his sincerity. “Your past has never changed your love for your children, has it?”

Amélie shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Then, if you tell them the truth,” Zenyatta probed gently, “why should it change theirs for you?”

“You make it sound so simple,” Amélie murmured.

“Sometimes,” Zenyatta insisted, “it is.” Gently changing the subject, he opened a hand towards the door. “Would you care to speak to Jack with me?”

Amélie nodded as she stood. “How do you find him as a student?”

Zenyatta chuckled. “It seems to be my destiny to find uniquely challenging pupils to aid along their paths – but he at least has some experience with the teachings of my brothers and sisters. The greater difficulty in his case is accepting his past actions – because he often does not see them as anything to regret.”

Amélie hummed thoughtfully. She had sat in on sessions with the former Ripper before, and had to agree with Zenyatta’s assessment. She was not sure if Jack’s behavior came from Talon’s manipulations or something deeper, but each time she had spoken with the man it was difficult to reconcile his casual attitude towards killing and brutality to the person who Lena had described as saving her life.

“I thought we might use the gardens today.” Zenyatta raised himself up on his hover systems, and Amélie matched his sedate pace. “Perhaps discussing your predicament will provide some useful opportunities for insight.”

The guards posted at the edges of the gardens that filled the center of Overwatch’s new headquarters were subtle, but they were still present, and the man they were guarding waited there for them, standing beside one of the memorial fountains.

His oddly colored skin and stark white hair were muted somewhat by a set of grey slacks that concealed most of his artificial legs, a dress shirt, and a slightly darker grey blazer. The monochrome effect made it all seem a deliberate choice, some odd quirk of fashion and style.

He turned slightly as they approached, making eye contact with each of them before he turned back to the fountain.

“I know you’ll tell me that I’m being horribly petty,” Jack observed dryly, “but I appreciate they left Morrison’s name off the memorial.”

Amélie kept her expression neutral – the identity of the now-retired Soldier:76 was still a guarded secret, and Jack Hyde was _not_ on the list of those with a right to know. Besides, with his almost irrational fixation…perhaps it was better that he never learned that truth.

Zenyatta just tilted his head slightly, giving a little hum. “No judgement was intended – his body was never found. A funeral was held by his family, but Overwatch’s records still list him as missing.”

Jack just shrugged. “Be that as it may…”

“As it happens,” Zenyatta said calmly as he redirected the conversation, “I thought we might discuss a bit of the past today.”

“If you like.” Jack turned, and nodded to her. “Hello, Amélie. Nice to see you.”

Amélie nodded politely to him as she fell into step. “Good afternoon.”

Zenyatta lead them to one of the open spaces that was surrounded by bushes and flowers in low planters, giving a sense of privacy for their conversation as they settled on the ground. ”Amélie – would you care to explain what troubled you?”

She took a moment to consider the best way to explain. “We have spoken before about how I was taken by Talon, much as you were, and…changed. That I was made to do several things against my will.”

Jack nodded. She had never called herself _Widowmaker_ when they had talked, out of concern for provoking an unfortunate reaction from their brief encounters in the past, but letting him know she had shared some of the same experiences had been helpful. To know someone else could understand. “Sure. I remember.”

“I have been wrestling with how to tell my children about that past. They are at an age where they ask many questions, and they understand a great deal.” Amélie looked down at her hands. “I fear what will happen when I answer them. When they learn that their mother had been a criminal. A terrorist.”

Jack shook his head. “So don’t use those words. You didn’t have a choice. Talon put their hooks in you. You had to go along. Once you got out, you obviously did things to help or you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

“That is quite so,” Zenyatta agreed. “The words we used to describe the past can also be the lens which allows others to view it. Framing the discussion is a useful tool.”

“Besides,” Jack said thoughtfully. “Your kids are pretty young, right?”

“Nine,” she confirmed. “They understand that Lena and I are in Overwatch. In her case…it is rather impossible to hide the evidence. But I do not…bring my work home with me.”

“Right,” Jack waved his hand. “But you don’t need to give them gory details or anything. Tell them the truth, obviously, but you don’t have to go into exactly what Talon did to you, or anything like that.” He looked down at the clawed feet poking out from his pants legs, and shuddered. “God knows, I wouldn’t want a kid to hear about what they did to me.”

Zenyatta hummed again. “Only you can decide what you are comfortable with, Amélie. But Jack’s suggestion has merit.”

“I will consider that,” Amélie promised. “Perhaps Lena, Emily, and I should discuss it together, first.”

“That seems very reasonable,” Zenyatta agreed. “Now…perhaps some meditation before we discuss further matters?”

Amélie took a breath and closed her eyes.

_Framing the discussion…perhaps I can._

* * *

Emily wasn’t quite sure she was ready for this – but if she was honest it was not a conversation she was sure she would _ever_ be ready for, so it was just as well Amélie had brought it up, and Lena had agreed it was worth going ahead.

They had made the decision to do it on a Friday evening. It would give the twins time to think and react without having to go straight to school, and hopefully avoid any messy public meltdowns.

Emily had tried to bury her nerves and uncertainty in the routines of cooking and serving dinner, letting Amélie and Lena carry most of the conversation with Vivyan about how school had gone, and teasing a few details out of Benji when Viv left gaps in the conversation while she ate.

It was only after she’d cleared the plates and Vivyan had helped get things into the dishwasher that Amélie softly cleared her throat. “There is something your mothers and I would like to talk to you both about tonight, in the living room.”

The twins got on the couch out of long habit, and Emily sat down on one side, putting a hand on Viv’s knee, while Lena sat next to Benji, encouraging him to lean against her.

She understood why Amélie was sitting down across from them, but something in the way her wife was carrying and distancing herself made Emily’s teeth itch. It was something they were all supposed to be doing together, and she didn’t want Amélie to wall them off and take it on _alone_.

Viv swung her feet a bit in the silence that settled heavily over the room, then spoke before Amélie could begin. “Was this about school? Because I didn’t do _anything_ bad this week, I promise. Even if I did, I didn’t _hit_ anyone.”

“That was _different_ ,” Benjamin objected, and Amélie had to put her hands up to stop both of them before it could turn into a squabble.

“It is not about school. Not…directly, at least.” Amélie straightened in her chair, and took a deep  breath before she began to speak again.

“I need to explain some things to you. Some of them will be difficult. Some of them will be things you do not like. Some of them will be things I do not expect you to accept or understand tonight. But I think they are things you need to hear.”

Benji looked at her with a concerned frown. “Is it bad? You’ve got yipes stripes, _maman_.”

Amélie’s brow was furrowed, and Emily found herself wanting to say _No, stop._ To get up and kiss her forehead and murmur _It’s OK to do this another night_ , but she knew that it was not right. Amélie needed to tell them. She would help her face this.

“Do you remember when you had nightmares,” Amélie asked gently. “When you were younger?”

Viv nodded. “You told us that it was nothing to be ashamed of. You said to come get you – because you had nightmares sometimes too.”

Amélie nodded. “That’s right.” She rubbed her hand slowly over where her old tattoo had been – the skin still marked with scars from some of the surgeries Talon had performed on her. “When I was a younger woman, before I met your mothers, I was a dancer.”

Benji gasped, his eyes lighting up. “What kind? Were you like the dancers in the Nutcracker? _Maman_ , were you a fairy?”

Amélie laughed softly. “I was a ballet dancer – and I had been a fairy. But I was also married to someone else.”

That seemed to shock both of their children, and when Viv spoke, her voice was a hushed, scandalized whisper.

_“Really?!”_

“Really,” Amélie confirmed. “He was a good man. He was a soldier – part of the original Overwatch.”

“Oh!” Benji sat up a bit straighter to look at Lena. “Did he know mummy? Is that how you met?”

Lena shook her head. “Before my time, mostly – and in another department. But let your _maman_ finish.”

“Sorry, _maman_ ,” the twins chorused, and Emily gave her wives a proud smile. As much as they worried about the time they were away, she had never doubted they would be good parents.

“So,” Amélie redirected the conversation. “I was married to a good man. A man I loved very much. But he was responsible for fighting a group of very evil people called Talon, and it demanded much of his time.”

The children had gone quiet, their attention fixed on their mother as she spoke. Emily caught Lena’s eyes and shared a sympathetic glance. Even now Amélie struggled to say Gérard’s name.

“Talon decided they wanted to stop him…so they kidnapped me.” Amélie bit her lip, struggling with the explanation.

Benji hopped off the couch and ran to her, putting a hand on her knee. “Were you scared?”

“Very,” Amélie said in tight voice, and leaned forward to pick him up, putting their son in her lap and holding him close, drawing some strength from his concern. “I was very, very scared. I didn’t know what was going on, or what was going to happen.”

Amélie took another breath and _Oh_ , Emily’s heart felt as if it could stop right now because she knew how much it hurt, how much it scared her, and Amélie is going on anyway and she loved her _so much_ in that moment.  “Talon began to give me drugs. Very, very bad drugs. Things that affected my mind, and my memory. They convinced me of things I did not believe, before. Made me remember things which never really happened.”

“That sounds _awful_ ,” Vivyan murmured, and Benji nodded his head, hugging her a bit tighter.

“It was awful,” Amélie agreed. “But I could not really understand it at the time. All I knew was that I wanted what they told me that I wanted. That I would do whatever they asked me.” She rubbed her arm again. “In the end, I was rescued. But Talon had convinced me to follow their orders.”

“I don’t like Talon,” Benji murmured. “I don’t like them at _all_.”

“Neither do I, now.” Amélie kissed his forehead, and carefully put him back down. “You should sit with your mummy.” She waited for Benji to get back on the couch, then visibly steeled herself. “There was a night where I received a phone call. Talon gave me an order to kill my husband.” She swallowed hard. “I obeyed them.”

The room had gone silent. Benji and Vivyan stared at her, and Amélie would not meet their eyes. “They took me. Changed me. I was…not myself, for some time.” She finally looked up at met Lena’s eyes. “It would be your mummy who saved me.” She met Emily’s eyes, and Emily tried to silently offer as much support as she could. “And your mother, in time.”

They shared a smile, and Emily’s heart eased as she caught the warmth in Amélie’s eyes.

“Course they did,” Viv said as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world. “Mum’s a _hero,_ and mother helps keep people safe! That’s why she works for the police!”

“I try, poppet.” Emily shifted so she could give her daughter a hug, and Vivyan didn’t put up any real resistance. “We all try, as best as we can. That’s part of why your _maman_ works with mum at Overwatch now.”

“I did many things I am not proud of,” Amélie said quietly. “Things I hope that I have made some amends for, since those days.” She ran a hand through her hair, and Emily could catch the little streaks of grey in her deep blue-black locks.

“You’ve spent more time helping than hurting,” Emily said firmly. “That matters.”

“A lot more,” Lena agreed, and they had a brief, silent conversation in little glances and gestures that they’d perfected over the years.

They hadn’t done a proper _spoil our wife rotten_ night in a while. Emily would be looking forward to it.

_Maybe we can take a weekend and send the kids to their Grans…_

She let the part of her mind that was happiest making plans chew on that, while she put the rest of her attention on here and now. “Benji? Viv? How are you two feeling right now?”

Emily wasn’t surprised at all that Benji asked the next question.

“Did it hurt, _maman?”_

“Sometimes,” Amélie answered. Tears were forming in her eyes, and she did not try to hide them. “Sometimes very much. Sometimes it did not hurt at all, at the time,” Amélie looked over to Lena, and they shared their own private little conference. “But later, as I came back to myself – as I knew who I really was, once again…then it hurt very much.”

Viv sat up, and Emily let her go. “The people who hurt you – are they gone?”

“Yes,” Amélie nodded. “Every single one. In prison, or where they can never hurt anyone else again – ever.”

More than a few, Emily knew, dead at the hands of the weapon they so carefully crafted, but that was nothing to share with them tonight.

_Eventually…they’ll know. Or figure it out. The history books don’t have all the details but they’re smart enough._

Still…this had to be enough for tonight, didn’t it?

“If you could stop it,” Vivyan wondered, “would you? Like if mummy could rewind you all the way back?”

Lena frowned. “Vivyan. You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Even if it did,” Amélie interrupted before Vivyan could turn it into an argument, “I don’t know if I would.” She rose from the chair and walked over, kneeling on the floor so she could look Vivyan in the eyes. “There are many people I wish could have been spared from what happened. But if that never happened – if I had never met your mothers…I would have never had you, or your brother. And I would be very sad, because the two of you mean more to me than I can say, _ma minette._ ”

“But you’d have had your husband,” Vivyan pressed. “You could have been happy with him and had different kids.”

“Perhaps,” Amélie admitted. “But they would not have been your brother, and they would not have been _you_.” She took Vivyan’s hands in hers and gently squeezed them. “We made the decision to bring you, and your brother, into this world. Because we loved each other. Because we wanted to have a family. I would never change that.” Amélie looked up, and Emily smiled back down to her, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder even as Lena did the same.

There were some more hugs and reassurances before they sent the twins up to get ready for bed, and Emily wasn’t surprised that they both wanted Amélie to read to them before they went to sleep.

Emily pulled down a bottle of wine to share, and had a glass waiting for Amélie when she came down, gesturing for her to join them on the couch.

“Honestly,” Lena said quietly, “I think that went really well. You were amazing, luv.”

Emily nodded, putting her wineglass down on the table. “I agree. You did a very good job answering questions, and you explained things without getting into anything that might be too much, right now.” She leaned over and hugged Amélie carefully from the side, mindful of the wine as she kissed her blushing cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I could not have done it without the two of you,” Amélie murmured, and if she drank the rest of her wine a bit faster than she might normally, neither of them could blame her.

“Maybe,” Emily smiled a bit crookedly. “But isn’t that how it usually works around here?”

They laughed quietly, not wanting to make too much noise until the kids were absolutely asleep, but it was enough. The cloud that had been hanging over the whole mess since Benji’s fight at school finally felt as if it was breaking up, and things would get better.

“So,” Emily asked as she took Amélie’s hand. “How do _you_ feel?”

“Relieved that it is over,” Amélie answered. “At least for now. Glad they seem to have taken it well.” She reached up to lightly rub at her chest. “I think I will always feel a bit of pain when I speak of what happened. When I think of him…but I think he would have been proud of me tonight.”

“I know he would,” Lena assured her gently. “Because he loved you, and because he would have wanted you to be happy.”

Amélie leaned over to kiss her gently, then let Emily draw her in. “I think that the next time we visit Paris I might take them to his grave. Bring him flowers. Talk…about some of the good times.”

“I like that idea,” Emily agreed. “Though be careful – I will bet you almost anything that Benji will start asking you to give him dancing lessons.”

Amélie snorted softly. “If that is the hardest thing to come out of this, I will be very grateful.”

Emily gently kissed the top of her forehead, and smiled over to Lena from across the couch.

Perhaps it would, and perhaps it wouldn’t – but they had each other, and they’d keep finding ways to muddle through.

One way or another, that would be enough.


End file.
